Stillness creeps in,
Covering heat
And metal and blood.
This is our time - the time
Of the moon and the night;
A kind of secret worship.
We are still, unmoving,
Sensing the beginning of
Things in the ringing,
Shimmering silence.
Pain like an electric current
Pulses beneath smooth,
Tanned skin, and a name
Like a prayer slides its way
Up from some hidden,
Guarded place - the heat
Of it like a living thing.
The sky splits open;
The stars cover us and,
Lifting your weary eyes
Toward the glowing
Constellation above, you
Whisper into the still, still night,
\"Orion was the hunter\".